


Ting Tang

by TheOtherMaddHatter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Compounds, Derek is still at war with Peter, Evil Peter, Gen, Hurt Derek, Mad Max Type Universe, Magic, Peter Killed Everyone, Post Apocalyptic Universe, Powerful Stiles, Science and Magic are both legit, They're basically enclosed cities, Witch Doctors, With built in Fanart!, genetic mutations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherMaddHatter/pseuds/TheOtherMaddHatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, that knife to the kidneys could be a problem.  So could the  guards closing in on him.  But Derek thinks that bleeding out may be the closest threat, and with the wound he has, the most likely to finally kill him.  </p><p>Luckily he's got someone watching out for him, even if he is a Witch Doctor.  And let's face it, anyone dressed like that is most definitely a Witch Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ting Tang

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BringingClawsToAGunFight](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=BringingClawsToAGunFight).



> Written for BringingClawsToAGunFight over on Tumblr, because Teagan is awesome and deserves everything. Really, go check that shit out, you won't regret it.

Well, that knife to the kidneys had certainly come as a surprise.  Derek thinks about his fuck up ruefully, but not regretfully.  He'd been trying -and failing, apparently- to break his way into Peter's main compound one more time, but some how they'd known where he'd be.  Some how they knew he was coming.  

It had to have been that last check point, the woman in the back alley.  The one who'd stitched him up after he’d encountered the last squadron of Peter’s heavily armed soldiers.  It was truly amazing what a few credits could buy.  A life, for one, or a death.  His death.  Even if Peter didn't technically know it was him, yet.  (Right now he was just a vague threat pinned to an unknown face.) He would know soon enough when Derek's long-thought-dead corpse showed up on First Watch.  

So here he was, in pain and bleeding out, alone in a back alley.  As far away from his goal as he could possibly be.  No justice served, no justice for himself, his family, his parents... Laura.  Derek grits his teeth and tries again to stand, only to feel as if he's been electrified, the pain as sharp as the dagger had been.  Nope, no way he's going anywhere anytime soon.  And if he doesn't go somewhere soon, his end will either be coming in the way of blood loss, a squad of guards, or much later through painful infection and crippling agony.  He can't afford good medicine.  Not the kind he'd need, anyways.  

Derek sighs... This is the End.  

He supposes he should just get comfortable then, take in the limited dirk and grime spattered scenery, pray.  Yeah, pray might be a good idea, since he'd be seeing his gods soon enough.  The thought makes Derek snort, which in turn makes the pain in his back radiate and causes his muscles to clench up.  That just makes the pain worse, and he grunts under the strain of resisting to scream.  At this rate, he'd be dying long before those guards show up.  

"Well, well, look what's turned up here?  You're the last person I was expecting to find."  The voice startles him, and he sits up suddenly, lunging for his last line of defense that is hidden in the lining of his boot.  The knife won't do much if they have guns, and he knows it, but he has to make do with what he has.  "But this night just gets more and more interesting.  To find a Hale, a presumed-dead Hale, bleeding out in a side street outside of the Beacon Compound.  Isn't this just a treat?"  

"Who... Who are you?"  Derek demands, but ends up spitting blood out as he talks, the fine red spray tainting the air with a metallic edge.  It stings his nose.  "If you're here to kill me, you'd best get to it or you'll miss your shot. There’s a time frame here."  

The boy -because it is a boy now before him- crouches down to his level, the massive coat he’s wearing moving and parting around him where it hangs all about him.  It's strange, even by the fashion standards of the inner compounds and higher cities, and is made of up many large, bound ropes and strips of cloth, covered in bones and metal bits, tied in intricate patterns and knots. There are a variety of colored threads and interesting bits adorning each one too, woven in and around one another in a very specific pattern.  None of the tassels are done the same, and each hang at a different length around his lithe body, their ends a variety of loose threads and carefully bound tails.  There's fur under there in places as well, Derek thinks, but the smell is all wrong for an animal, and the scent is tainted where it pokes out around the kid’s shoulders and neck.  It's spicy, heated, and utterly wrong for a human or an animal, making his nose burn the closer to boys gets to him as he leans in more and more.  

But as he does, Derek notices all the tiny bones, chains, and metal charms and beads that he wears about his torso and neck, the tiny bottles tucked into a pouch on his hip, the moles on his face and neck where they swirl into an unknown pattern beneath the dirt. The many bangles and necklaces that hang around his neck are made of natural materials and bones of small animals, a few flecks of gold poking out here and there from beneath the massive coat. He doesn’t wear any shoes, his feet caked with mud and debris, and his nails aren’t a normal color, instead a sickly sort of pale green that comes with working with plants they don’t have in the compounds.  

A Witch Doctor, he realizes suddenly, and a free one too, judging by the lack of collar or binding bands around his wrists and ankles.  Such a rarity, and so close to Peter's perfect base of command.  His Uncle is known for his aggressive drive to search their kind out and bind them under his power, into his service.  To force them under his will. And to have one here, flirting about and flaunting his free status like this, it makes Derek laugh, which turns into another bloodied cough.  And such a scrap of a boy too. That’s just the icing on the proverbial cake. 

"And what does a Witch Doctor know of interesting things?  Your kind think dead things are entertaining."  Derek knows that snarking to someone with that much implied power is a really, really bad idea, but the blood loss is getting to him, making him careless and a bit cross.  "I'm hardly that much fun.  Just look at me."  

"Yes, I can see that."  The Boy says, but grins down at him anyways as he does something with his hands.  "That's where I come in.  I'm all sorts of fun."  

The absolute foulest odor he's ever smelt suddenly wafts off the strange kid’s hands before he moves swiftly and strikes out like a snake, grabbing onto Derek’s torso and around his middle tightly, one hand gouging into the stab wound and the other smearing the gunk onto the skin around it. He does it without a second thought or a moment’s hesitation, like he’s done it a million times before. It leaves Derek gasping, reeling, and Derek tries desperately not the scream.  His lips are bloody, but he can't smell it over whatever is now on him and the boy, the scent of it and his own stale sweat clogging his nostrils.  It wreaks of death and rot and foul, and he can feel his eyes stinging as the boy moves again, away from him this time.  

"Now, give that a minute, and I'll be able to give you something for the pain.  That, combined with your handy mutation, should have you up and moving again before the First Watch makes its rounds and finds you.  Wouldn't want you dead just yet, now would we?"  

Derek huffs out another laugh as the boy hands him something small that looks vaguely like a pill. He swallows it quickly and dry, trying not to let whatever it is linger on his tongue. It was sure to taste as foul as the paste smelt.  

"No, wouldn't imagine you would want me dead.  Not when my plans would set a majority of your kind free."  He rolls his eyes, but there's a heat in his side now that comes with advanced healing, ramped up by some unknown poultice and aided by the mysterious pill.  "I take it that's what you want in return?"  

"Stiles."  

Derek blinks.  "What?"

"Tell him, tell Peter, that Stiles sends his regards."  The boy stands up again, the coat swinging around him, but doesn't make any sound, regardless of all the metallic bits and bobbles that he's wearing on his person. His arms and torso are covered for the most part now, hidden from Derek’s view.  "And remember, Derek.  Don't forget to tell him as you rip out his heart, that I’m coming for him, and that my people will once again be free."  

"Yeah, I think I can manage that."  Derek smirks. “That’s easy enough.” 

But the boy -Stiles- is already gone.


End file.
